If I would not give up the three graces,
I wish I were hang'd like a dog,
And at court all the drawing-room faces,
For a glance of my fweet Molly Mog.
Thofe faces want nature and spirit,

And feems as cut out of a log,
Juno, Venus, and Pallas's merit

Unite in my sweet Molly Mog.
Those who toaft all the family royal,
In bumpers of bogan and nog,
Have hearts not more true or more loyal
Than mine to sweet Molly Mog.
Were Virgil alive with his Phillis,
And writing another eclogue;
Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis

He'd give up for fweet Molly Mog.
When the fmiles on each gueft, like her liquor,
Then jealousy fets me agog.

To be fure she's a bit for the vicar,
And fo I fhall lofe Molly Mog.

A new fong of new SIMILES.

M

Y paffion is as muftard ftrong;
I fit all fober fad;

Drunk as a piper all day long,

Or like a March hare mad.

Round as a hoop the bumpers flow;
I drink, yet can't forget her;
For tho' as drunk as David's fow,
I love her ftill the better.
Pert as a pear-monger I'd be,
If Molly were but kind ;.

Cool

Cool as a cucumber could fee

The reft of womankind.

And

Like a ftuck pig I gaping ftare,
eye her o'er and o'er ;
Lean as a rake with fighs and care,
Sleek as a mouse before.

Plump as a partridge was I known,
And foft as filk my skin,

My cheeks as fat as butter grown;
But as a groat now thin!
I melancholy as a cat,

Am kept awake to weep;
But fhe infenfible of that,
Sound as a top can sleep.
Hard is her heart as flint or ftone,
She laughs to fee me pale,
And merry as a grig is grown,
And brisk as bottled-ale.
The God of love at her approach
Is bufy as a bee,

Hearts found as any bell or roach,
Are fmit and figh like me.
Ay me! as thick as hops or hail,
The fine men croud about her;
But foon as dead as a door-nail
Shall I be, if without her.
Strait as my leg her shape appears;
O were we join'd together!

My heart would be fcot-free from cares,

And lighter then a feather.

As fine as five-pence is her mien,

No drum was ever tighter; Her glance is as the razor keen, And not the Sun is brighter.

A

As foft as pap her kisses are,
Methinks I tafte them yet;
Brown as a berry is her hair,

Her eyes as black as jet:

As fmooth as glass, as white as curds,
Her pretty hand invites ;

Sharp as a needle are her words,

Her wit, like pepper, bites:

Brifk as a body-louse she trips,
Clean as a penny dreft;
Sweet as a rose her breath and lips,

Round as the globe her breaft.
Full as an egg was I with glee;
And happy as a King. ·

Good Lord! how all men envy'd me,

She lov'd like any thing.

But falfe as hell, fhe, like the wind,
Chang'd as her fex muft do;
Tho' feeming as the turtle kind,
And like the gospel true.

If I and Molly could agree,

Let who would take Peru!
Great as an emp'ror should I be,
And richer then a Jew;
Till you grow tender as a chick,
I'm dull as any post;

Let us, like burs, together ftick,
And warm as any toast.
You'll know me truer than a dye,

And wish me better sped;
Flat as a flounder when I lie,
And as a herring dead,

Sure

Sure as a gun, fhe'll drop a tear,

And figh perhaps, and wish, When I am rotten as a pear, And mute as any fish.

FINI S.